


I Swear the Stars Shine Brighter (When I'm With You)

by ArgentLives



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allydia - Freeform, But mostly fluff, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 13:16:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1267768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentLives/pseuds/ArgentLives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia, sharp as always, quickly learned to recognize every “Hey, could you come over to help me study for this test?” or “Do you want to come over and do that calculus assignment together? It never hurts to have a genius proofread your answers” as thinly concealed pleas for help and of “It’s getting worse” or “It’s really bad tonight and I don’t know if I’m ready to face whatever may happen when I close my eyes” or “I need you.”</p><p>But Lydia was a good friend—or at least she tried her best to be— and she would never question it.</p><p>----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>(Things get a little heated during a training session and Lydia and Allison realize some things that have been a long time coming)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Swear the Stars Shine Brighter (When I'm With You)

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine this taking place in between 3A and 3B but it kind of disregards the plot of 3B after like the 2nd or 3rd episode. (This was mostly inspired by the first episode with Lydia and Allison in the woods together and also the scene of Lydia asleep on Allison's bed after Allison wakes up from that one nightmare about Kate and Isaac tbh)

“Allison, I get that you’re concerned for my safety and all, and it’s not that I’m not grateful or anything, but did you really have to bring me all the way out into the middle of the woods to ‘train’ me or whatever? Couldn’t we have done this, like, inside or something? Where it’s nice and warm and not so…dirty?”

Allison sighed in exasperation and glanced over her shoulder to look back at her friend, who was still stumbling over tree roots and struggling to keep up. “I’ve already explained this to you Lydia, we’re in the middle of nowhere so that we won’t be seen or heard, and plus it gives me much more space to teach you. And it’s your fault you’re uncomfortable; honestly Lydia, I warned you we’d be coming here—it was entirely your own choice to wear nice clothes.”

“What do you mean _nice_ clothes? Allison, these are probably the least nice clothes I own. I mean, look! I’m wearing _sneakers_. Sneakers, Allison!”

Stopping in the middle of a clearing, Allison turned around and looked her friend up and down with exaggerated criticism. It was true—Lydia lacked her usual designer heels, and she was actually wearing _pants_ , Allison noted, mildly impressed. Still, she looked remarkably well put together, with her stylish jacket that hugged her curves perfectly and her matching gloves and perfect hair and the bright pink lipstick that stained her lips and the slight pink flush of her cheeks from walking in the cold and did she mention the pink lipstick because _w-o-w_ no one could pull off pink lipstick like Lydia could and—

“Allison? Hellooo? _Allison!”_

Allison swallowed hard and shook her head, willing all thoughts of Lydia and her perfect pink lips and any thoughts that might come with them out of her mind. Lydia looked good. Lydia _always_ looked good. Suddenly Allison was acutely aware of the fact that they were completely alone together in a secluded clearing in the middle of the woods…

Alone. In the middle of the woods. With Lydia. With her _best friend_. Her best friend who had admittedly been popping up in her dreams more and more frequently lately…but anyway.

Hiding how flustered the thought made her, Allison cocked her eyebrow and rolled her eyes. “Next time just borrow some of my clothes. Honestly, I don’t mind. Some of this training stuff can get pretty physical, so you’re going to want to be comfortable.” Desperately trying not to let the thought of Lydia wearing her clothes distract her, Allison set herself to the task of unloading her bag and setting up a makeshift training area in the clearing.

“Okay, let’s start with some combat training. Then I’ll show you how to work with weapons; we’ll find what suits you best. I prefer the crossbow and Chinese ring daggers but I have a feeling you’ll be more of a gun person…”

Not that she really even needed it, Allison thought to herself as she trailed off and finished setting up targets on the trees around them. Lydia was literally a genius—she could probably think her way out of most situations, destroying her enemies purely through her intellect and quick thinking.

Still—it was better to be safe than sorry, and she wanted to make sure that Lydia would be able to protect herself in more ways than one, what with the promise of bigger and badder things to come to Beacon Hills in the near future. She couldn’t bear the thought of Lydia getting hurt on her conscience.

“Okay, so I’m going to demonstrate some moves first, you know, just so you can get the idea of it, and then you can try them on me; alright?”

Lydia nodded and watched with growing fascination as her friend demonstrated various rolls, kicks, hits, and defense methods, putting all the years of gymnastics and skills training she’d had on display. Lydia was sure at this point that she was showing off at least a little, and found that she did not mind one bit.

If Lydia was being honest with herself, this little demonstration probably wasn’t doing her any good, although she’d never admit it. Because instead of carefully observing the moves Allison was demonstrating, instead of taking note of her complicated hand and footwork and her intricate techniques, she found herself a bit preoccupied staring at…other things.

Like the way Allison’s muscles flexed, especially in her back and shoulders and legs and _holy shit—everywhere—_ and the light sheen of sweat that clung to her skin (who knew it was actually possible for a person to _glisten?_ ). Like how her hair flew around her face with every twist and turn, wild and untamed. Like the intensity in her eyes and the little crease between her eyebrows that Lydia had come to know as a testament to how hard her friend was concentrating and the flush in her cheeks that showed she was exerting herself and the sheer force and power behind every kick, every punch, and the elegance with which she seemed to execute them. And she’d be lying if she didn’t mention how _good_ her friend looked in those tights...

Allison might have been having trouble keeping her hands steady enough to shoot her bow and arrow properly, but she certainly could still hold her own in a fight.

Lydia marveled as another thought occurred to her: Allison literally looked like someone straight out of an action movie—a legitimate slow-mo, explosions in the background, hair-blowing-in-the-wind action movie. Except Allison was _real_ , not just some abstract concept or character, and she was her…well, her best friend. And Lydia found that she would be content to watch her friend do this all day.

With one final maneuver, Allison came to a stop in front of her. “So, you think you’re ready to try some moves? You can practice on me—I’ll help you with all the different stances and stuff.”

What was she supposed to say? _‘Sorry Allison, but I actually kind of missed the whole...you know…demonstration part of what you were just doing because I was too busy staring at your hair and your face and your muscles and your ass—so yeah maybe could we do a quick run through again or something…’_   Yeah, that’d go over well.

Instead, she smirked and flipped her hair back with her usual easy confidence and said with an air of self-assurance, “Please, I was _born_ ready Allison.”

To this, Allison just smiled fondly and shook her head. “Alright, Lydia, whatever you say.”

As it turned out, Lydia found that not paying attention was actually working to her advantage. Because not knowing the proper moves and techniques meant more opportunities for Allison to be closer to her, pressed up against her as she positioned her arms and legs into the correct stances and guided Lydia to move her body this way and that.

If Allison noticed her complete lack of concentration during her demonstration or realized that this was the reason for Lydia’s need of step-by-step, close-contact guidance, she didn’t mention it. In fact, she didn’t seem to mind it at all. Because Lydia smelled like flowers and warmth and expensive perfume and Allison smelled like the woods and familiarity and home and they just seemed to _fit so well together_.

Once Lydia got the hang of some of the simpler sparring techniques, Allison insisted that she demonstrate on her. And to her own surprise, Lydia actually wasn’t half bad, either—she managed to get in a few punches before Allison could block her, until she lost her footing and fell to the leaf-littered forest floor, accidentally plowing into Allison and taking her down with her.

They fell hard to the ground, Allison cushioning her friend’s fall as Lydia landed on top of her. They were so close, pressed so tightly together, that Lydia could practically feel Allison’s heartbeat through her jacket, could feel the way her chest rose and fell in rapid succession, both of them winded and out of breath.

“Sorry,” Lydia breathed, struggling to get the word out, half because she hadn’t yet caught her breath in the first place and half because Allison had stolen it away again.

It wasn’t as though she had never been this close to her…in fact recently, Lydia had found herself waking up next to Allison becoming a common occurrence.

 

 

Ever since Scott, Allison and Stiles had sacrificed themselves in order to save their parents, ever since the darkness Deaton warned them about had manifested itself around their hearts, things had been…well, things had been rough, to say the least. And unfortunately, it seemed to affect them the most during the night, when actual darkness fell, when they were most vulnerable, invading their dreams and twisting them into nightmares. It had gotten so bad that Allison, Mrs. “I can take care of myself” Argent, who hated feeling weak and couldn’t stand the thought of having to ask for help, had taken to calling Lydia up whenever things were getting to be too much to handle.

Of course, she would never outright admit to needing someone to help her cope, to sit with her and just be a solid and dependable presence when her inner demons threatened to tear her apart.

Lydia, sharp as always, quickly learned to recognize every “Hey, could you come over to help me study for this test?” or “Do you want to come over and do that calculus assignment together? It never hurts to have a genius proofread your answers” as thinly concealed pleas for help and of “It’s getting worse” or “It’s really bad tonight and I don’t know if I’m ready to face whatever may happen when I close my eyes” or “I need you.”

But Lydia was a good friend—or at least she tried her best to be— and she would never question it.

She would simply gather her textbooks and stuff them haphazardly in her backpack and then grab her travel-size Coach handbag and quickly throw the first clothes she could lay her hands on from her closet (it’s a good thing she only owns cute clothes) and the makeup and lipstick still lying on the counter from that morning into it and as she would rush to put on the heels lying next to her bed that wouldn’t even come close to matching her outfit she would think to herself: _only for Allison_. Because she honestly couldn’t imagine doing this for anyone else.

Because she’s honestly never had anyone that she’s loved like she loves Allison before.

So Lydia would ride the elevator up to the floor where Allison and her father were living, all the while tapping her foot impatiently and wondering if it always took this fucking long because _goddamnit her friend needed her._

And when she finally got there Allison would be waiting for her, with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes but that was grateful nonetheless and with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking.

And of course Lydia noticed, because Lydia noticed just about everything, and she would reach out and take Allison’s hands in her own, rub her thumb against her palm and squeeze them tight to try and help steady them, to stop the constant tremors. And then, without letting go of her hands, she would wordlessly tug at them and lead her to the bedroom, plopping her bag down on the floor and sitting down on the bed, pulling Allison down along with her.

Sometimes they would actually get around to doing some actual studying, Lydia explaining differential equations to Allison like nothing was wrong and driving the dark thoughts from her mind. Other times they would end up sprawled out on Allison’s bed, talking about nothing in particular, Lydia insisting on painting Allison’s nails and pretending like it wasn’t just an excuse to hold her hands again and ease the shaking while Allison would pretend like she didn’t notice even though she did, of course she did.

Sometimes Lydia would come prepared with a various assortment of her favorite chick flicks, including, of course, _The Notebook_ , and they would watch as many as they could before they physically could not keep their eyes open anymore. Lydia would always do her best to distract Allison, and sometimes they would even end up laughing together and acting like normal teenagers for once—which of course was all pretend, because normal ended for them a long, long time ago.

Either way, they always ended up falling asleep together, sometimes sprawled out on the floor and sometimes curled up on the bed, Lydia usually forcing herself to stay awake and watch her friend, determined to make sure she was safe and okay, until Allison’s eyelids finally fluttered shut and her breathing evened out and her hands stopped trembling.

Sometimes that would be it, and they’d wake up the next day somewhat rested and ready to go through another day of pretending that nothing was wrong, that things would get better. But other times they weren’t quite so lucky.

Lydia had lost count of the amount of times now she’s had to wake Allison up from a nightmare, how many times she’s been jolted out of sleep by the ear-shattering screams from her friend from some terrifying hallucination only she could see, or the violent thrashing from fighting an enemy that didn’t exist outside of her mind.

And even when Allison thrashed and kicked and screamed, even when she was a danger not only to herself but to Lydia as well, Lydia stuck by her side. She would take her friend in her arms, press her head into her chest and stroke her hair, murmuring things like “Shh, Allison, it’s okay. You’re okay” and “It was just a dream” and _“I’m here,”_  running her hand soothingly up and down her arms, her back, her legs, and slowly coaxing her from her hysteria.

Sometimes Allison would break down there, in her arms, her body shaking with heart-wrenching sobs, and she would cling to Lydia as if her life depended on it, as if she was drowning. Lydia never minded, of course—she would stay there for as long as Allison needed, as long as it took for the sobs to subside and for the shaking to stop and for her friend to finally calm down.

She would sit up with Allison, listening to her if she needed to talk about her dream _(her nightmare)_ and keep a comforting hand on her back or her shoulder all the while. There were times Allison didn’t, _couldn’t_ , talk about it, and that was fine too. Sometimes she just needed someone there, someone to comfort her and to hold her and just be there for her, and Lydia was content to be that person. It always seemed to help, the physical contact, and Lydia was more than willing to provide it.

She hated seeing her friend so upset, this girl who was always so strong and fearless and sure of herself, broken and crying and falling apart in her arms, but she loved the feeling of being so close to her.

Often times, she would end up holding her friend close, wrapping her arms around her and kissing away her tears to help her forget about the pain, about the darkness in her heart. And they would fall back asleep eventually, with Allison’s head tucked under Lydia’s chin (even though Allison was obviously the taller one) or Lydia’s arms draped lazily around Allison’s chest and with their legs intertwined.

But come morning, it was always the same thing. They would pretend that nothing had happened and go about their lives as usual, and Lydia was left with this constant, burning feeling in her chest.

(Sometimes she wondered if Allison felt it, too)

 

 

Bringing herself back to the present, Lydia realized that she was still very much on top of Allison and that their faces were still dangerously close and neither of them seemed to be making any move to get up.

“Sorry,” she whispered again, eyes trailing down to Allison’s mouth, and she watched as the corners of Allison’s lips turned up into smile. She didn’t even have time to prepare herself, didn’t have time to catch her breath, when Allison suddenly closed the small distance that was between them and captured Lydia’s mouth with her own and  _oh my God she’s kissing Allison Argent, she’s kissing her best friend, and it feels really, really fucking good._

And before Lydia was ready, much before she would have liked it to end, Allison broke the kiss and looked up at her with laughter dancing in her eyes and a wide, playful smile on her face. She laughed at Lydia's dumbfounded expression, to which Lydia pouted and said in a small, subdued voice, “What’s so funny?”

Allison laughed and pressed her forehead against Lydia’s, bringing her hand up to cup her friend’s cheek. “Nothing. It’s just, I’ve never seen you so flustered before. It’s cute.”

“Yeah, well…” Lydia mumbled. “I’m not really used to being caught off guard. Plus it’s not every day your best friend decides to kiss you.”

Allison rolled her eyes. “Oh please, you knew it was coming. I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me. Not just now, but this entire time. Don’t think I didn’t notice you weren’t paying attention to my little demonstration. But honestly, I think this is something we’ve both wanted for a while, am I right?”

“Yeah, well…” Lydia said again, unable to come up with a wittier response, unable to help the smile beginning to spread across her face or the backflips her heart was doing at the moment.

“I’m serious Lydia. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me recently, what an amazing friend you’ve been. And you _are_ my best friend, but…you’re even more than that too. And I’ve been feeling this way for a long time now, and I love the way it feels when you’re next to me, and I love the fact that you own about a thousand pairs of shoes but only one pair of sneakers, and I love the way you can always make me feel better when I’m on the verge of breaking down, and _I love you.”_

Lydia’s smile was so big she could give Scott McCall a run for his money, and she could feel the warmth spread all over her body, from her heart to her toes to the tips of her fingers, and she might just explode from this feeling of happiness, of complete, utter joy.

“Yeah, well, I love you too” she responded, with an elated laugh of her own, and before Allison could respond, she was already kissing her again, running her hands through her hair and laughing against her friend’s lips at the leaves and twigs she found stuck there.

Eventually, they lost track of who was on top and who was on bottom, as they rolled around on the forest floor, laughing and kissing and whispering _“I love yous”_ in all sorts of creative ways (Lydia especially loved when Allison said it in French, whispering it over and over again as she trailed kisses up and down Lydia’s neck, her chest, her stomach, and lower and lower until— _oh)._

By the time night had fallen, they were lying next to each other, this time with Lydia’s head resting on Allison’s chest and Allison’s arm wrapped around her waist, as they looked up at the sky together, watching the stars and cuddling close to stay warm.

This felt so _right,_  Allison thought to herself as she marveled at the red head on her chest and wondered if all of this was really happening, because it honestly felt too good to be true.

(But if this was a dream, she decided, she never wanted to wake up)

And it was probably just her own bliss affecting her judgment, but Lydia could swear, with Allison’s arm wrapped around her and her hair in a disarray and her lipstick smeared—it's marks bright and stark against Allison's pale skin— that the stars were shining much brighter than usual that night.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry I'm so ridiculously cheesy I embarrass myself I'M SORRY


End file.
